Football and Gold Stars
by purrpickle
Summary: Alternate 2x11, The Sue Sylvester Shuffle. What if Rachel's plan of filling out the football team went entirely differently than expected? Pezberry.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I don't own Glee nor the characters within. This story has been percolating in the back of my brain for a while. It wouldn't leave me alone. I know, realistically, it's out of character, but I don't care! I wanted to write it, so write it I did. Think of it as fun indulgence that I can hopefully draw together. Also, I almost uncomfortably feel like I've done Tina a disservice for her totally awesome run, but she'll get her glory later, I promise.

And yeah, do you really expect anything other than Pezberry from me? *grins*

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><p>Staring at herself in the mirror, Rachel would never have imagined she'd be where she was. It wasn't like she was Brittany, who had those long dancer legs that could run quick and fast. Or Lauren, who could tackle with the best of them. Not even Tina, who after that disastrous run down the field, gamely got up and finished the half.<p>

No, Rachel was Rachel: below average height for American females, strong legs but proportional to her body, slight and originally unwilling to do anything but lie down on the ground.

Which made this all the more unbelievable.

Squinting, Rachel realized that the black marks under her eyes had smudged enough that she should probably reapply them if she wanted to go back on the field. But really, she tilted her head, was there a point if they were going to do their half-time show? She wondered if Finn had succeeded in getting The Unholy Trinity to come back. Honestly, she thought it highly hypocritical of him, but at least her ex-boyfriend was doing the right thing. Glee club needed the three cheerleaders, and since Santana was featured as one of the main vocals in the show, that was another reason for at least _her_ presence.

As if answering her, the door to the green room swung open, three presumably ex-Cheerios striding in.

"What doing?" Santana paused, staring at Rachel through the mirror, "You still in uniform?"

Turning around, Rachel avoided looking over at Lauren and Tina and Mercedes getting ready off to the right. "Uhm… I haven't decided yet if I'm going to play the next half. It wouldn't make any sense for me to change then have to scramble to get back in." She looked down at her chest, frowning, "These shoulder pads are surprisingly hard to get into."

"Uhm, what?" Quinn blinked. Shedding her Cheerio jacket, she unzipped her top and skirt in short order, "You're making less sense than normal, Stubbles."

Looking up from where she'd already stripped down to her underwear, Brittany's eyes widened and she skipped over to Rachel. "You are so hot right now," she stated as fact, starting to run her hands up and down the broad shoulders of Rachel's uniform.

Rachel blushed. "Uhm, thank you Brittany, but I think you should be concentrating on becoming a zombie right now." Lifting her arms, she tried to push Brittany's hands away, but the blonde continued, unconcerned. "No," she shook her head, pausing at the area where she would have normally been groping Rachel, "Wouldn't it work better if Tina or Mercedes just bit me? Though, could they do it so I don't have to eat brains?"

"Ay dios," Santana muttered, walking forward to pull her best friend away, "I'll deal with her. But Man Hands." She leveled Rachel with a direct stare, "Get to 'splainin'."

_Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do._

"Do I have to?" Rachel whispered. Her still gloved hands started pulling at her jersey. "Because if I do, it'll become real, and I'm not sure I want it to be real…"

"Okay, _what_ the hell are you talking about?" Santana narrowed her eyes at her. Even half naked, only in a sports bra and spanx, the girl managed to look fierce.

Helpless, Rachel slid her gaze over to Tina and Mercedes, willing them to step in; Lauren looked too entertained watching Rachel's situation to even attempt to get her involved.

Finally, at her pleading look, Mercedes sighed. Putting the makeup sponge down, she turned a half made-up face towards the three ex-cheerleaders. "You three catch any of the game?"

Santana crossed her arms. "No. We were dealing with Sue and the cannon."

"Those baby canons…" Brittany whispered dejectedly, Quinn reaching over to squeeze her shoulder. "I'm sure they'll be alright," Quinn offered, and Brittany gave her a small smile.

"Well. My homegirl, here," Mercedes nodded at Rachel, "Turns out she's amazingly good at football."

Rachel averted her gaze away from the hot stares aimed in her direction.

"Excuse me?" Quinn laughed, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head, "I must have heard you wrong."

"No," Mercedes shook her head, Tina and Lauren nodding in agreement behind her, "She's got some mad skills."

"Yeah, she scored two, uhm, two touchdowns," Tina offered, smiling almost proudly. Even if she hadn't succeeded in her run, she'd helped in one of Rachel's, so she was happy to take credit for that.

Quinn gave Mercedes a blank look. "You can't be serious."

"No, no, no," Santana shook her head, managing to draw Rachel's attention, "That tiny hobbit? You sure the football didn't hit her giant nose and bounce off into the end zone?"

Rachel flushed. She may be dealing with her football performance in her own disbelieving way, but it still hurt to hear doubt stated plainly in front of her. "Yes, I know, ladies, that it would be almost preposterous to think of me as athletically minded, but," she pushed away from the mirror, lifting a hand to self consciously smooth down one of her braids, "It turns out I'm small enough that teenage boys will ignore me until I get such a good lead on them that they can't catch up. As well as they overcompensate and roll over me when I duck under their tackles." Yes, she decided, she could feel smug about that.

Getting halfway to where the makeup waited, she was brought short by a shooting pain in her calf. Darn. She'd been hoping that slight twinge she'd felt during the last play would just go away. Luckily, she _was _a dancer, so she knew what to do. Problem was, she didn't have a lot of time, and pretty soon she'd need use her leg again.

Still, mustering a smile on her face, she walked as stately as she could to the free chair next to Lauren. Pulling another chair over so she could put her leg up, the makeup base she was going to stretch for was pushed into her range by a perfectly manicured hand. Looking up, she gave Santana a small, cautious smile.

Santana narrowed dark eyes at her. Perching on the edge of the counter, smoothly ignoring Lauren at her back, she dropped her chin and scanned Rachel's body. Thoughts flitted behind her eyes, and then she raised an eyebrow. "Roll over you, huh?"

A light blush rose on Rachel's cheeks. Clearing her throat, she nodded, flicking her gaze back and forth between Santana and the makeup and the mirror.

"And I imagine it's satisfying enough that you've made up your mind?"

Rachel focused on the sponge smoothing across her forehead, using a makeup wipe to get the black smudges off her cheeks. "I know I originally professed an unwillingness to get involved in such a savage pastime, but…" Santana made a 'get on with it' noise, and Rachel shot her a quick, embarrassed twitch of her lips, "I'm finding it… Fun." The last word made her smile at her reflection, and she rolled her shoulders and raised her chin proudly.

"Ohh my _god_!" Santana groaned, shaking her head, "RuPaul! What the hell are you _smoking_? You _know _the jocks have already agreed to come back onto the team. How in the hell do you think you'll be _accepted_, let alone _get to play_?"

It wasn't like Rachel hadn't thought about that. She swallowed. She also wasn't looking forward to that. Slightly shrugging, she offered loftily the only excuse that kept her from tearing off the football uniform and getting into her original costume, "Coach Beiste wants me there."

Santana scoffed. "Yeah, that'll do it."

Sighing, Rachel craned her head around to look Santana fully in the eye. "Santana. Not that I don't appreciate your surprising interest in my sudden status as honorary football player, but as you are the female lead in this show, maybe you should concentrate on that instead of me. Like…" she lowered her gaze, blinking when she realized Santana was still only in her underwear, a bare thigh awfully close to Rachel's shoulder, "Putting on clothes oh my goodness." She snapped her head around.

"You're such a prude," Quinn rolled her eyes as she walked by to snatch the base away from Rachel.

"Gee, _thanks_, Quinn," Rachel huffed, "Want to take my sponge and makeup brush as well?"

Pausing, Quinn cocked her head and then turned on her heel. "Don't mind if I do," she smirked, taking the aforementioned items and walking away again.

Limited as she was by resting her strained muscle, Rachel growled. "Seriously? _Seriously_?" she asked, turning her glare onto Santana, "Did she _really _just do that?"

Santana just smirked at her. "Well, you _did _offer, dwarf." Shaking her head, she reached back and unleashed her ponytail. Looking at Rachel out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly seemed to make up her mind about something and pushed herself off the counter. Just as Rachel was coming to terms with the fact that she was going to have to get up and find some makeup for herself, Santana reappeared with an already activated icepack. "Here you go," she gruffed, tossing the icepack at her.

Her mouth dropping open, Rachel stared up at Santana. "Thank you…?" she asked faintly, leaning forward to pull her pants leg up far as she could to slide the cooling wonderfulness under her calf.

"Whatever," Santana brushed her off, starting to apply her own makeup.

Watching her silently for a couple of seconds, Rachel bit her bottom lip. "Santana…"

Santana didn't answer, picking up a pencil to start tracing the lines of her lips.

Rachel tried again. "Santana?"

"_What_?" Santana ground out, still looking into the mirror. Squinting, she raised her pinky to swipe away an errant line and redrew it. Then, she traded that pencil for the eye liner.

Realizing she was staring at the other girl, Rachel blinked and looked down at her leg, her jersey, at the other girls crowded around the costume rack, before finally looking back up at Santana. "Do you think I should go ahead and apply my original design, or, as I shall still be wearing this uniform, change to the already jock appointed total zombie mask? I'm not sure how different I want to present myself than the others on the team, but again, as I am still a female, the issue is one I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time to puzzle over."

Santana glared at her through the mirror. "Jesus!" she spat, dropping the liner and turning her head to stare directly at Rachel, "I'm not sure I _want_ you to be a zombie. To get at my brain, you'd probably _talk _so much – no, sorry, _groan_ and _moan _at me so much – it would melt and dribble out my nose! No." She held up her hand. "Just sit there, clam up, and Britts and I will come up with something."

It took a couple of seconds for Rachel to digest what Santana had just said. When she did, a wide smile crossed her face. "Okay!" she said brightly, "But then please hurry up as we only have about twenty minutes left to get everything ready."

Santana stared at her, then closed her eyes and shook her head. "Duct tape," she muttered, "Ooh, or sewing her lips together. Voodoo zombie. Now that's a thought…"

Trying to ignore her, Rachel sat back in her chair. Straightening her jersey and pretending that her shoulder pads weren't digging into the back of her neck, she tried, again, to come up with a reason why what she was planning wasn't suicide.

Her list was awfully short.


	2. Chapter 2

Luckily, Rachel _was _a dancer (and one who obsessed over making sure _everything _ran smoothly), so she'd already memorized the football players' dance moves and not just the girls' moves. So, sliding into the hole left by an absent Karofsky after jostling past Finn and Azimio and successfully avoiding their loud, derisive objections, she took a deep breath and waited for the smoke to rise up.

Smoothly executing the dance moves she'd only danced through once in preparation of Finn's inevitable request for her to help him run through it, she continued singing her original lines, not willing to allow her needed melodies be absent from the rest of glee club. Even if she wasn't, technically, representing the glee club, she would _not _let the mystique of being a… Jock…? Cloud her true allegiance.

Catching the eyes of various male and female zombies, she didn't let any of her growing apprehension show through the sagging cheek and peeling skin Santana and Brittany had expertly applied. She was a consummate professional, and even if her calf was grumbling under the compression bandage she'd wound around it, she wasn't going to ruin _anything_. Coach Beiste might want her for football, but that didn't mean she was going to _clumsily _shuffle through her clumsy zombie shuffling.

About a minute into the show, Rachel realized that Karofsky was staring at her with narrowed, furious eyes, his jaw clenching. Yes, she was taking his spot, but that wasn't _her _fault. _He _was the one who'd turned his back and forfeited his role in the performance and on the team.

Still…

Before Karofsky had caught on that Rachel had taken his place, the burly boy had been watching and scanning the show with wide eyes and a giant, eager smile on his face. Rachel had seen him. But what was she supposed to do? She couldn't give up _her _spot so he could run in, as that would leave a noticeable hole in the line of football players, and then where would _she_ go?

Executing one of the locked arms, cocked wrists zombie freezing motions, Rachel's eyes slid back towards the unhappy, resentfully scowling Karofsky. _Yes_, she hated him for bullying Kurt, _yes _she hated him for the years of bullying towards herself and the rest of the glee club, but even in the height of his torment, he'd never looked so excited and – Rachel closed her eyes, shaking her head – _happy_?

Knowing they had about a minute and a half left of performance time, Rachel took a deep breath. Ugh. Karofsky owed her _big _for this. Timing the motion perfectly, she managed to duck past the two football players to her left and weaved her way to Karofsky. Glaring up at him, she crossed her arms. Before he had a chance to complete a sneer and cover up his surprise, Rachel grit her teeth. "Go," she barked.

Karofsky faltered. "What?"

"_Go_." Putting a hand to his arm, Rachel mentally admonished herself for this obviously _awful _idea, and tried to push Karofsky in the direction of the spot she'd vacated. "Get _in_ there! There's only a minute left, and if you _really_ want in the show and the game, you have to go _now_."

Karofsky stared at her. "Berry, what – ?" His eyes slid back over to the dance, his expression turning panicked and wild.

Stomping her foot, Rachel went behind his back and pushed him with both hands. "I did _not_ give up my performance for someone who won't perform, so get _out _there!"

Even though Rachel really shouldn't have been able to budge him at all, the large boy leaned forward, one of his feet taking a stuttering step. As she continued pushing, he suddenly started moving forward with purpose, Rachel having to catch herself before she toppled after him. Looking down at her calf, not happy with her motions at all, she almost missed the rough, afterthought grunt of, "Thank you."

Bending down to rub her calf, Rachel lifted her head to catch Karofsky's surprisingly smooth melt into the performance, managing to do it without too much disturbance. Sighing, she tried to tell herself she did the right thing. Karofsky just looked… Happy.

A shadow fell over her, and a big hand clamped down on her shoulder, managing to pull her up with what seemed an effortless tug. "You did the right thing," Coach Beiste smiled down at her. "At the very least, it's a start towards…"

"Integration, I know," Rachel nodded. Accepting the help towards the team bench, she sat down, stretching her leg out again.

"You going to be okay?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yes." Giving Coach Beiste a smile, Rachel dropped her leg, turning her attention back to the show. She didn't want anyone thinking she couldn't play. Once she'd decided she was in it until the end, she was determined to see it through.

Beiste sat down next to her. "You know, Berry," the large woman started, able to pitch her voice loud and deep enough that she could be heard over the music and the sound of Santana and Artie's singing, "I'm proud of you for sticking with this."

The last crescendo was coming up. "Shouldn't you be telling me this after the game?" Rachel asked.

"No." Beiste shook her head, crossing her arms, "Why wait for the dance when the chickens can hatch now?" A smile crossed the coach's face, and though Rachel hadn't understood that – at _all_, she nodded in response, giving the (well, she guessed she was _her _coach now) coach an accommodating smile. Coach Beiste searched her face, then reached out to grab Rachel's arm. Her hand almost completely dwarfed Rachel's wrist, the small girl helpless to do anything but move with the direction Beiste gave it. "Look out there," the older woman ordered, nodding her head in the direction of the sea of predominantly red and white zombies, gesturing in the same direction with their arms. "What do you see?"

Rachel squinted. "The glee club and football team performing a mash-up of two popular songs for the half-time show of the championship game."

"No. Stop looking at the obvious." Shaking her head, Coach Beiste shook Rachel's arm, which in turn shook her whole body. "You're seeing _cooperation_. _Teamwork_." Dropping Rachel's wrist, Beiste frowned. "But how long will that last?"

The grand finale was only a couple of seconds away. "I don't know," Rachel answered truthfully. She'd be happy to think on that a bit later, but really, even if _she _wasn't in it, the show was exciting. She could feel pride in how far the glee club had grown under her tutelage.

"I'll tell you. It'll last for the game, and if we're lucky, a little after that." Suddenly morphing from their serious conversation, Coach Beiste stood up and cheered wildly, clapping with a big, proud smile on her face at the dramatic poses the glee-football zombies ended _Thriller/Heads Will Roll _with.

Rachel stood as well, clapping and cheering even if she knew she really should have been in there instead of sitting on the sidelines. But at least she'd left it for a _reason_.

"That almost brought a tear to my eye," Beiste murmured, proving the lie of her statement by wiping a tear away and having to come back to wipe away another one, "The amount of fricken' kick-ass _togetherness_! Maybe we actually _have _the gumption to pull off a win tonight. And especially now, with you on the team!" She looked down at Rachel. "You ready to show them what you got, Berry?"

Swallowing, Rachel glanced at the milling that was beginning on the field and bleachers before looking back up at the tall woman. She tried to firm her posture, forcing all pain from her calf away. "Show them what, Coach Beiste?"

"Your position as the Titans' new wide receiver, of course!" Slapping Rachel's back hard enough that she squeaked and swayed forward, Beiste shook her head and started off in the direction of the boy's locker room, "Get with the program, Berry! Locker room, five minutes. I don't want to see you late or you'll owe me ten laps!"

Sucking her lower lip into her mouth before she remembered the amount of make-up on it, Rachel squared herself, took a deep breath, and was about to take a step forward towards the locker room when two hands suddenly settled on her waist from behind, pulling her back into a strong body.

"Rachel!" Brittany chirped in her ear, "I'm so happy to see you alive! I thought maybe one of the zombies had eaten your brain and hidden your body under the bleachers, leaving you to rot all alone, wondering why we were dancing without you." She squeezed Rachel tightly, causing an automatic blush to travel up Rachel's neck; she was relieved no one could see it beneath her make-up. Was it something about the football uniform that was making Brittany so… Handsy?

"Hello, Brittany," Rachel greeted politely, deciding not to fight the hug. Brittany did have wonderful hugs. "I'm happy to be alive as well, and happy that you acknowledge my love of performing. _Especially_ with glee."

"Even if _you _selfishly think you deserve all of the solos," Santana appeared, stepping around Rachel's side.

"But I'm better than both of you," Brittany nodded. "It's Brittany, bitch. Not Santana, bitch or Rachel, bitch. …Brittany …Bitch."

"B, _I'm _the bitch." Santana held up a hand, stalling both Rachel and Brittany's response, "Don't _make _me go all Lima Heights Adjacent on your asses. Because you know I _will_." Effectively staring both Rachel and Brittany down, Brittany settling into the hug she was giving Rachel, Santana nodded, satisfied. Then, she stared at Rachel, finally rolling her eyes and letting out an annoyed breath. "So, you're _really _going through with this."

Aware of Brittany settling her chin on one of her shoulder pads, Rachel nodded confidently. "Yes," she answered, certain, "I've thought about it, and even if I must admit I'm a little frightened at the thought of encountering the rest of the football team, I know this is something I need to see through."

Santana narrowed her eyes at her. Rachel found herself holding her breath as she waited for the ex-cheerleader's response. Finally, a slow, almost smug smirk crossed her face. "You know, I almost find this too funny to believe." Gesturing at Rachel's outfit, Santana shook her head, wild hair moving with her. "I just… A hobbit playing football. _Boys _football. You just can't stop being a fricken' prima donna, can you? You need all the attention."

Before Rachel could answer, Mike suddenly hollered from the entrance of the locker room, "Hey! Rachel! If you don't want to do laps, you better get over here!"

"Okay, Michael! Thank you!" Rachel called back. Releasing herself from Brittany, she gave the blonde a smile, turned a more determined one on Santana along with a promised, "We'll continue this conversation later, Santana, where I explain that having a healthy dose of love of the spotlight is never wrong,", took a deep breath, and jogged as normally as she could towards the meeting that might just turn out to be the beginning of the rest of her high school life.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Shorter chapter/scene, but one that needed to be written.

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><p>The locker room erupted into loud, derisive voices. Keeping her chin up, Rachel used her years of acting experience to stay looking confident as she clomped up to the space Coach Beiste motioned her towards. Heart pounding in her chest, she stared back at the sea of zombies and Karofsky who stared at her.<p>

"Alright! Listen up!" Beiste barked, clapping her hand down onto Rachel's shoulder, "Meet your new wide receiver."

"Oh _hell _no," Azimio threw out, "We ain't having no _girl _on our team!" Many of the other Titans nodded, yelling out protests of their own.

Coach Beiste's whistle cut through the uproar. "_Girl_?" she barked, pinning each of the dissenters with her eyes, "This _girl _almost single handedly saved this _game_! The game that _you _idiots obviously didn't care enough about. Do you honestly think you even _deserve _to play? Why should I even allow you back on the team?"

"But you _need _us," Karofsky protested.

Beiste whirled on him. "Do I?" When he flinched back, she continued, "We were doing pretty well _without_ you."

"Coach," Finn stepped forward, a concerned, furrowed brow expression on his face even through the makeup; Rachel straightened, giving him a shy, hopeful smile. Surely he'd be one of her supporters. But Finn avoided her gaze. "I'm not saying that Rachel _didn't _help us, and I know we wouldn't have been able to play without her for the first half, but… We have the team now. The _real _team."

_Real team_. Rachel stared at her ex-boyfriend. "Real team?" she whispered, "I wasn't part of the _real team_?"

Finn looked uncomfortable. "Rachel, you know what I mean," he tried to backtrack, "Of course you were part of the team. I'm just saying that we don't need – that you don't have to let Coach tell you you have to play. I know how… Barber-something you think football is."

"I can't believe _you_, of all people, _Finn_," Rachel stepped forward, glaring at him, "Would think I'd do something I didn't want to do just because someone _told me to_!"

"Rache – "

"Don't _Rache_ me – "

Beiste's hand came back down onto her shoulder. "Save it for the football field," she ordered, looking back and forth between Rachel and Finn, thoroughly unamused. Chastened, Rachel took a deep breath, forcing a smile on her face while still staring intently at Finn. "I'm fine, it's fine. _Right_, Finn?"

"What?" Finn blinked, then shook his head. "No, wait, Coach." Turning completely to the large woman, Finn held up his hands. "This is not a girl thing," _girl thing?_ "Or, or even discrimination," _same thing, Finn_, "But as the quarterback of this team, I really think the guys – or, uhm, other _teammates_ – wouldn't be able to play their best if, if Rachel was on the field," he finished lamely.

"Oh shut _up_, Hudson. You're just afraid Berry'll steal your thunder." Puck suddenly burst out. Standing, he walked over to Rachel's other side. Smiling down at her, he looked back up and stared menacingly at his teammates. "I for one, have no problem with Rachel being on the team." He then bumped her shoulder, grinning. "Us hot Jews have to stick together."

Pleasantly surprised, Rachel didn't have any time to thank him before Mike and Sam shrugged and joined her. Rolling over, Artie gave her a supportive smile. "Hey, she scored two touchdowns, yo. Sister has _skillz_," he explained, putting his palm up for a high five, which Rachel gave him, a wide smile on her face.

"This is _crap_," Azimio scoffed, "You four lose your Man Cards?"

"Yeah, are you going to turn into _girls_ now?" Karofsky echoed.

Puck lunged towards the two, but Mike and Sam managed to catch him before he could reach them. "You're one to talk," he snarled, "What about your _doll _collection, Karofsky?"

"_Action figures_," Karofsky growled, standing up, his face darkening, "They're _action figures_."

"Okay, _enough_!" Beiste bellowed, her voice bouncing around the room. "The only one who gets to decide who stays on the team or goes is _me_. Not any of _you_. Rachel stays. You don't get rid of a prize bull before the cows come home."

Rachel looked up at her. That one _almost _made sense.

"In fact," Beiste glared at the Titans still opposing her, "You all have nothing to complain about! Only _Jackson_ might have a claim."

Almost as one, everyone turned to stare at a slim zombie sitting near the back. "Already wide receiver," Mike whispered, and Rachel nodded. She hadn't thought about how her new status would take someone _else's _position. She started chewing on her lower lip before remembering, once again, the amount of makeup caked on it.

The zombie, Jackson, shrugged. "Actually, I have no problem with her joining."

"_What_?" Azimio shouted, "_Dude_, what the hell is going _on_ here? Is there some crap in the water that's making all of you guys _girls_?"

Jackson glared at the larger boy. "Hey, unlike you, I actually paid _attention _to the game. She's good. And besides, with her on the team, I won't have to do as much." When he acknowledged her, Rachel realized he was the guy who had actually been into her and Puck's performance of _Need You Now _before one of his teammates glared at him to stop. She gave him a smile. After this game, she decided, she was going to seek him out and not only ask him about what, exactly, being a wide receiver entailed, but also see if he was interested in formally joining glee. It would be nice to have another male lead. Even more a plus if he had a deeper voice. Sometimes, it was painfully clear only Artie (and every once in a while, Kurt) sang below the key of Justin Bieber.

"And there you have it. Rachel's in. Quit whining and be happy I'm still allowing you to play. Now, we have strategies to go over. You four going to help Rachel understand it?" she looked at Puck, Mike, Sam, and Artie, who nodded. "Good. Now take yer seats! We have a _lot_ to do."

Flanked on each side by her fellow glee members, Rachel walked as stately as she could to a free spot on one of the benches. Sitting down, she managed to hide her wince, as well as ignore Finn's unhappy stare; she would have to figure out how she felt about his conduct later, away from him and this circumstance. Acutely aware of the hot glares she was receiving, she just held her head high, turned her attention to the whiteboard, and tried to understand the Xs and arrows Coach Beiste was drawing on it.

However, a thought nagged at her. She waited until Coach Beiste was busy erasing and redrawing a new plan, "Hey, Puck," she whispered, leaning towards his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you _really _supporting me?"

An arrogant, wide smirk took over his face. "You're a chick, right?"

"Of course I am!" Rachel snapped, insulted.

"Right. Well, think about it like this." He leaned in closer, "Once you're an official football player, the Cheerios will automatically rally around you. It's their nature. And more Cheerios around _you _means more Cheerios around _me_."

That made her groan. Of course. "But what about Lauren?" she quirked her eyebrow at him.

Puck's expression dropped. Then, "The Puckster's still got eyes, don't he?"

Yes. He did. Rachel made a face at him, and turned back when the coach started talking again. She was going to have to get used to more male testosterone than she ever wanted, wasn't she? She couldn't believe she'd _ever_ thought that the boys' locker room was going to be sexy.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Writing Rachel bromances are _so much fun_! Also, I promise that next chapter will be _full _of action. Well, at least it's planned to be. XD

Also, a big thank you to G6-flying for the best name for Finn _ever_. Hope you don't mind me using it!

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><p>The heat in her football helmet was unbearable. Sweat and makeup was dripping into her eyes, and she wondered for the umpteenth time why they had decided to keep the masks on. Melting zombie was gross, not scary. Unable to wipe her eyes with the back of her glove due to the awkwardness of the face mask, she figured she had to make peace with clenching her eyes shut and blinking furiously when she was off the field, forcing her eyes open when she was on.<p>

"Hey, how you doing?" Puck plunked himself down next to her on the bench, the shoulder of his uniform bumping into hers.

Pushing him back, Rachel tilted her head so she could look at him from under the helmet. "As to be expected," she offered noncommittally. Her leg still hurt, and the rest of the team minus the gleeks and Jackson seemed to hate her.

"That good, huh?" Puck studied her.

"You could say that."

He stretched out his legs. "Understandin' any of the plays?"

Rachel averted her gaze, dropping her head. "Not really… Not yet. Pointing in a random direction and telling me to go there seems to be still working the best. I just _wish_ – " She sighed, shaking her head. It wouldn't achieve anything, complaining.

Puck bumped her shoulder again. "What? No, what?"

Really, Puck was being uncharacteristically helpful. No wonder she couldn't shake her on-and-off crush on him. Looking over the field, watching the defensive team doing… Whatever it was they did and evidently succeeding at it, Rachel lowered her voice, not wanting to be seen as a whiner – which she certainly was _not_, "No one trusts me. I'm open – I _know _I am – but no one but you or Sam or Mike seem to be _acknowledging _my place on the field. How can I _help_ that way?"

"And Finn's being a total douche," Puck added, and Rachel nodded sadly. That was another thing that bothered her. He'd been willing to include her _before _the half-time performance, but now, with the reappearance of the rest of the team, he was caught in some kind of weird guilty state of mind where he would send her beseeching looks but throw to everyone that _wasn't _her, even if she were open and they were not.

Not only did it hurt as an ex-girlfriend, but as a female as well, and was even starting to affect her ego. "He's the _quarterback_, isn't he?" she crossed her arms, jutting out her chin, "Then why isn't he _acting _as one?"

"My question exactly," Sam grumbled, dropping into the open seat next to her. "_I _was the quarterback until I dislocated my shoulder. But that was _months _ago. So why is he _still _quarterback?"

"Mmm… I don't like to talk bad about my bro, but it _is _kinda whack," Mike offered critically, coming up behind them; trying to crane her head up and back enough to look at him, she gave up when she could only catch the barest glimpse of him due to, once again, her helmet.

Bringing her head forward again, Rachel couldn't help but smile. "Though I know this is in avid support of my new membership into the Titans, which would heighten your negative thoughts beyond mild annoyance, I appreciate your words. They are, in fact, helping. Finn _is _being obnoxiously mulish."

"Heyy," Puck held up one hand to give her a knuckle bump, "Look at you, calling him an ass! Right on."

"No, Puck. That wasn't… Oh very well. Here." Grinning despite herself, Rachel bumped his knuckles.

"Ey, I'll get in on that," Artie grinned broadly as he wheeled up, five cups of water barely balanced on his lap. Handing them out, he gave the last one to Rachel, only relinquishing it when she gave him a knuckle bump of his own. "Awright girl, that's how we do it!"

Rachel giggled, warm affection welling up inside her. How was it that joining the football team seemed to have also gained her, if not friend-friends, some form of acceptance? It felt…

It felt nice.

Unhooking her chinstrap, she gratefully took a deep gulp. Draining the rest of the water, she wiped her mouth and then looked down at the cup. "Alright, guys, I'll take your cups," she smiled at everyone, "We don't want to litter now, do we?"

With an assortment of eye rolls and shrugs, Puck, Sam, Mike, and Artie handed her their cups, and she stood up. Giving her leg a shake and experimentally putting her weight on it, she relaxed when it didn't protest more than usual. She nodded decisively, "Thank you! Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to head for the nearest trash can."

"_Exciting_," Sam said under his breath, and she paused to stare pointedly at him. He raised his hands in mock surrender. Smiling, Rachel shook her head, and turned back towards her goal, feeling particularly triumphant that he had smiled back.

Though the trash can wasn't that far away, she still had to shoulder her way through a couple groupings of unrelenting jocks, some who actually seemed to be stepping _into _her way instead of out. Forcing herself to keep a pleasant expression on her face (even if they couldn't _see _it that well through her helmet …which she was beginning to think she could actually take off, seeing Azimio and Karofsky with theirs off), she finally reached the trash can. Tossing the cups and letting herself feel some accomplishment, she was just about to make her way back to the bench when a hissed, "_Rachel_," hit her ears.

"Huh?" Turning around, Rachel opened her eyes as wide as they could go before the burning of the makeup bothered her too much when she recognized a group made up of Tina, Quinn, and Santana, leaning over the railing that separated the bleachers from the track. Taking a quick glance at the field and seeing nothing that would tell her she would be needed soon, she strode as quickly, non-limply as she could over to them. "Hi guys!" she beamed up at the still zombified girls, "What brings you here?"

"How are you doing?" Tina asked, looking back and forth from her and the field, pausing to smile at her.

Her leg and eyes hurt. Finn was being a stubborn… Mule, making her feel useless. But, regardless, she was having an odd sort of fun. "Great," she called up, shrugging slightly.

"Great." Quinn quirked her eyebrow, Santana smirking and crossing her arms next to her. "Sure looks like they're _valuing _you, hobbit," Santana tilted her head.

"That's _Finn's_ fault," Rachel grumbled.

"Yeah… I'm actually not surprised." Resting her chin on her hand, her elbow balancing on the railing, Quinn shrugged. "Are _you_?"

Blowing air out of her mouth, Rachel slowly shook her head. If she was honest, she wasn't. "No…"

"Finnconsiderate's good at underwhelming, hmm?" Santana started before mimicking Quinn's position, "Are you just going to sit back and let him steamroll you? God knows it wouldn't be too hard, seeing as he's the Jolly Green Giant and you're barely taller than a six year old, so maybe that's not surprising, either."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at the arrogantly smirking girl. "Why do you care so much?" burst out of her mouth before she could censor herself. But once she'd said it, she forged ahead. Crossing her arms, she tilted her head enough to meet Santana's eyes, "No, really. Why do you care?"

If it wasn't her imagination or somehow misinterpreted, Rachel noticed Quinn smirk and mutter, "Ohh…" under her breath, Tina turning completely to watch her and Santana instead of the game.

Santana regarded Rachel emotionlessly. Eyes smoky with the dramatic makeup from the half-time show, nails tapping her cheek, the girl finally straightened, "Time to go back to Fraggle Rock."

What…? Frowning, Rachel opened her mouth, but a large gloved hand dropped onto her shoulder, and Sam was pulling her back towards the field. "C'mon," he tugged her faster; Rachel struggled to keep up, her calf protesting. It wasn't his fault, as he didn't know, so she didn't bother trying to interrupt him even if it wasn't very comfortable for her, "We're about to go on."

"It's the offensive team again?" she asked, feeling smug when jocks who had moved into her way earlier now almost backpedaled with Sam in front of her.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Offense. With _Finn_, though. He's going to make us _lose _if he keeps ignoring you!" He stopped when they rejoined Mike, Artie, and Puck standing ready at the sideline.

…Sam really believed in her _that_ much? Instant tears pricked at Rachel's eyes, but she knew there was no way she would be able to cry them. Not _now_, and certainly not when her eyes were already burning. Looking up at the tall boy, Rachel beamed and squeezed his forearm. "Thank you, Sam," she got out throatily, "That means a lot to me."

Sam shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. "Thank me by kicking some _ass_!"

"_Yeah_!" Rachel cheered, pumping her fist into the air.

A loud whistle pierced the air, and suddenly Coach Beiste was yelling at them to get on the field. Shoving her mouthguard back into her mouth, rehooking her chinstrap, and accepting the growing excitement of getting swallowed up into the game again, Rachel hoped against hope Finn would put his ego away and _let her play_. If _she_ could get egotistical (which she could), Rachel knew that they were only holding onto their lead tenuously, and without her doing her improvised wide receiving, there was no guarantee they would keep it.

Taking a second to scan the field and bleachers, Rachel had to smile when she caught sight of an excitedly waving blonde who had joined Tina, Santana, and Quinn at the railing. Lifting a hand to wave back, Rachel chuckled when Brittany stepped up her waving, Santana snapping out a hand to stop her flailing. If she had known, years before, what joining the football team would have done for her and what it seemed to be doing to her relationships, there was no doubt she would have done it before now. …Granted, that wasn't very realistic, but it was a nice thought.

The noise quieted as everyone jostled into position, and Rachel set her jaw. Meeting the eyes of one of the opposite team's jocks, she stared at him determinedly. Didn't matter he was triple her size, she knew she could outrun him.

And outrun him she did.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **This chapter is purely to advance the story in that I spat words at the screen until they stuck. Oh, and this chapter includes Finchel of a sort for those who can't stand it.

* * *

><p>The leather stuck to her gloves. Tucking the football securely into her side, she lowered her body mass and took off like a shot. Tearing up the grass as she ate up the yards, her makeup was running into her eyes, her heart was thundering in her chest, forcing her breaths quick and hot out of her lungs, her calf was screaming at her, and a giant boy was bearing down on her… But Rachel had only felt as centered and determined during one of her showcases or performances.<p>

Though the helmet didn't give her as much peripheral vision as she'd liked to have had, she tried to not concentrate on that. Instead, something told her to duck, and she did, a large shape sliding heavily along her back. A stray hand caught the side of her leg, but with only a small stumble, her sense of balance kicked in, and Rachel completed the last few desperate footfalls.

A couple of seconds after someone yelled, "_Touchdooooooown_!", Rachel was swept up into a crushing hug, Mike dropping her a second later for Puck to whack her on the helmet. "That's it!" Puck yelled, yanking out his mouthpiece and pumping his fist, "Just keep doing that!"

Trying to catch her breath, Rachel couldn't say anything through the giant grin on her face. Letting Mike and Puck lead her off the field, Rachel only managed to get out a, "I did well, huh?" when more strong arms were locked around her chest and she was whirled around as Sam laughed happily. "_Told_ you!" he crowed, "With Rachel, we _got _this!"

"I have to agree with you."

Jerking around, making Rachel's head grow light with the sudden direction change, Sam did manage to keep her upright with a strong grab to her jersey. "Coach!" he straightened, able to stay steady when Rachel's hand slapped back against his abs to keep her footing. Taking a second to allow her calf enough time so it wouldn't hurt too much if she put weight on it, Rachel's recovered proud smile didn't dim when she met Coach Beiste's eyes.

"Then, if you agree," Puck's arm suddenly settled over Rachel's shoulders, though it was obvious he wasn't relaxed at all, "Why the hell are you _letting Finn throw this whole damn game_?"

"I'm beginning to wonder the same thing. _Hudson_!"

And then, in a whirl of raised voices and glares and almost foot-stomping, Finn yanked his helmet off, slapping it against the pad on his thigh. "You_ can't_," he shouted, "_I'm _the quarterback! I've _been _the quarterback for two _years_. Sam just _came in_ and _stole_ it." His throat worked, "Cheesus gave it back!"

"Jesus?" Rachel spluttered, aware of Puck growling under his breath. His arm tightened around her, but it was Sam lunging forward, gloved hands slamming into the chest of Finn's shoulder pads and subsequent shove from Finn back that really spurred her into action.

"That is _enough_," she screeched, moving quicker than Beiste to between the two boys, seeing that out of the corner of her eye her coach had instead wrapped her long arms around Sam's shoulders, Puck rushing forward to push Finn back with his palm against his chest, "Finn Hudson! You have _repeatedly _shown a lack of basic maturity today." Jutting her finger out, she pointed it straight at his face, his eyes crossing to focus on it while her other hand worked furiously to strip her helmet off so she could better yell at him, "You want to know why you're being benched?"

Finn threw Puck's hand off of him, glaring at his friend. "Why are you all doing this to me?" he protested seriously, a look of complete betrayal taking over his face as he stared at everyone standing in front of him, "I don't deserve this!"

"_One_," Rachel started over him and an _extremely_ unkind word from Sam, "You are throwing away _all _of the lead we gained in the first half. _Two_, you are not being a _leader_, Finn. And _three_, are you listening to yourself? This is _not_." She threw her arms out, "_All about **you**._ This is _our _game. Or, if you prefer me taking _myself_ out of this, the _football team's _game."

"William McKinley High's game," Coach Beiste agreed, patting Sam's shoulder and stepping forward. Sliding her eyes to Rachel, and keeping them on her for a couple of seconds before turning to Finn, the woman spoke seriously, almost softly; frankly, it was terrifying even through Rachel's still running adrenaline, "Hudson, what were the past five minutes? Not of now. Of the game."

Finn frowned, looking confused and overwhelmed, the expression only helped by his makeup. "Uh… Off…fensive play?"

Beiste crossed her arms. "And what happened within those five minutes?"

There was a painfully obvious silence, and finally Finn, eyebrows crowding on his forehead as his panic grew, answered faintly, "We scored."

"_No_," Puck snapped, jerking forward, Rachel grabbing at his arm, "_Berry_ scored. Dude. What the _hell_ is _up_ with your _fucking_ – "

"_Puckerman_! Five laps, next practice." Cutting him off, Beiste turned back to Finn. Her voice was low, angry. "You know, Hudson? I don't see the problem here. It's simple. If you don't want _off_ the team, you _will_ step aside for Sam." Shaking her head, her demeanor relaxed enough for the beginnings of regret to show on her face, "I'm disappointed in you, Finn. And frankly, as I'm – and probably everyone else – is concerned, you have a _lot_ of apologizing to this team if your selfishness helps cost us this game." Stepping back, she raised a finger to point at him and barked, "You got that, sparky?"

Finn's mouth dropped open. "But it's not – I didn't – you _can't_ – "

But Beiste was done with him, already walking towards where Azimio and Karofsky were doing a bad job of looking like they weren't eavesdropping.

Artie wheeled himself forward, offering as he rotated himself to follow Beiste, shaking his head, "You _did_, man."

"And we can," Mike finished, giving Finn a judgmental, let down glare, joining Artie in heading for the sideline.

"Puck," Rachel whispered, tugging on the boy's arm. She knew she should probably get him out of there, her nervousness growing at the aggression still pouring off of him; it wasn't out of bounds that he'd do something brash, "It's not worth it."

Glaring darkly at Finn, Puck only shook his head and turned, pulling his arm roughly from her grip, stomping over to the others. Trying not to feel hurt at the action, Rachel sighed. "Finn…" she trailed off as Sam approached from behind.

"You know, dude," the newly reinstated quarterback sighed, "You're not a bad guy, but you have a _lot _of growing up to do." Then, squeezing Rachel's shoulder, he gave her a small smile and stepped away to join Beiste as she called him over.

And suddenly, uncomfortably, she and Finn were alone.

"Why did they do that?" Finn almost whispered, the look in his eyes one of warring anger and disbelief.

Moving forward, Rachel put her hand on Finn's arm, her heart almost breaking at the hurt in her ex-boyfriend's expression. Even if they weren't together anymore, she still cared about him, and even though she knew she had been _completely _justified in what she had said, she couldn't help feeling guilty sickness rising in her chest. "Finn – "

"_No_. Don't touch me!" Shaking her arm off, Finn took a step back. "You were part of this, Rachel! You were one of them!" He shook his head, drawing in a deep breath before snapping, "You're supposed to _support_ me, Rachel!"

What? "Support you?" Rachel asked. Drawing back, she crossed her arms. "I'm not your girlfriend anymore, Finn. _You_ made that perfectly clear."

Finn blinked. "…_So_?" he tried again, "Don't I support _you_?"

"Finn…" Rachel whispered softly, sadly, her voice catching on his name, "Look around you. This? This is because you didn't support me when it counted. So no." She clenched her eyes shut, willing them not to tear up more than they already were, "You really don't." Swinging around on her foot, she was brought short by burning pain, almost instantly stumbling and falling.

"_Rache_!" And before she could register anything else, Rachel was in Finn's arms again, her ex-boyfriend having gone to his knees to pull her up and back into him, "Are you okay?"

Rachel froze. No… No. "Please let me go," she whispered thickly, every bone and nerve and muscle fiber vibrating inside of her for her to melt into him, to wrap her arms around him and never let go. She missed him. She missed him like she had never missed anything more. He was strong and solid, _familiar_, and under the smell of turpentine and makeup and grass and her own sweat, Rachel could smell _him_. It hurt. It really, really hurt.

His arms tightening around her, it obviously took Finn a couple of seconds to realize why the stroking of his hands down Rachel's arms wasn't appropriate. But when he did, he cleared his throat and shifted markedly away. "Uhm… _Are_ you okay?"

Rachel forced herself to start concentrating on her own body instead of his. Her calf wasn't very happy, but it had subsided into only dull throbbing again, which, realistically, Rachel knew she couldn't trust until she stood on it again. Aside from that and slight impact awareness from her hip and palm that had slapped into the ground, her wrist was slightly tweaked. However, she rotated it back and forth, it was barely anything.

…The pounding of her heart and yearning in her body was something else, and it didn't – _shouldn't_ – count.

But. Rachel cleared her own throat. "I'm fine. I just slipped. Wet grass, you know."

She needed to move.

She didn't want to move.

"You sure?" Finn's voice was deep, and Rachel's mind went crazy trying to figure out what it meant.

She wanted to see Finn's expression. If she looked at him, she'd know what he was feeling.

She didn't want to see Finn's expression. She didn't want to know what he was feeling. She already hurt too much.

"Well honeys, this is _quaint_," Santana's voice called from behind them, arch and sarcastic, "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to break it up."

Finn's hands fell away from Rachel's arms as he stood up, dropping one to help her up after a second. Slowly accepting, curling her fingers around his, Rachel forced all expression from her face as he pulled her up and immediately stepped away. Instead, she focused on slowly putting her weight on her calf. …Good. Didn't hurt worse than before.

Finn was talking again. "What do you want, Santana?"

"Cool your tits, Finntanfile. I'm here for Berry."

Rachel looked up.

Raising a zombified eyebrow at her, Santana crossed her arms.

"I don't know what you want, Santana, but – "

Shaking her head, Rachel stepped forward enough to slip slightly in front of her ex. "It's alright, Finn," she gave him a quick smile, blinking back towards Santana before her emotions could take her over again.

Opening his mouth, Finn evidently thought better of it and started towards Santana after a long, frustrated look at Rachel.

"Buh-bye now. Enjoy your fall down the popularity ladder," Santana smirked at him, wiggling her fingers in a taunting wave, her smirk growing even bigger as he growled, snapping his helmet from the ground into the crook of his arm, striding off towards the nearest water fountain.

Rachel couldn't help watching him go.

"You know… Not that I really _care_ or anything," Santana walked forward, bending down to pick up Rachel's own helmet that had tumbled out of her hand when she'd fallen, "But you're still being pretty disgusting about the giant man-child."

Sighing, Rachel shook her head, eyes toward the sky. "My helmet?" she asked.

An inscrutable expression on her face, Santana looked over the helmet. "I'm surprised your nose fits in it," she stated matter-of-factly, her lips curling up as she handed it over to Rachel, "But no. That's not why I'm here."

"Then why _are_ you here? And thank you." Tucking her helmet under her arm, Rachel stared unamusedly at the other girl, "I really don't have a lot of time before I have to go back."

Santana raised her hand. "I know. When Sue wasn't freaking out over the Nationals, we _actually_ cheered for the football team." Her eyes dragging down Rachel's body, she sat back on her heel. "You're still favoring your leg," she said flatly.

Rachel stood up straight. "So?"

"So." Santana stared at her pointedly, eyes narrowing, "If you _insist_ on continuing to represent the WMHS female population in this _insane_ suicide attempt, you better _do _something about it before you bring us _back_ hundreds of years. Got it?"


End file.
